


The Room

by Deannie



Series: Women on the Border [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wax itself was nothing special. The pot was just a pot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Room

**Author's Note:**

> For the hc_bingo prompt: self-harm. Part of my Women on the Border series.

_Tied and helpless and Ollie and Mom and that… man and the sword and OH GOD—_

“MOM!”

Thea Queen found herself sitting up in her bed in the early dawn, sweating, with tears running down her face.

She shook her head angrily at the dream—the memory—that replayed and replayed and replayed… The funny thing was, as much as her mother’s dead tortured her, it was actually some sort of karmic justice. And the very thought that she should somehow feel like a killer had been brought to justice made her laugh, low and rough and hysterical.

It bordered on insanity.

She stood, padding down the stairs of the house where Malcolm Merlyn, her _father_ (because her life really needed more insanity), was teaching her to defend herself. From everything.

“Your life _is_ insane now,” she sighed, striding silently past the kitchen. With a little thrill in her stomach, she reached out and opened the double doors of rich mahogany.

When she walked into The Room, somehow it all felt less insane.

The Room had one wall of windows, neatly covered by screens that allowed the light to filter in without distracting the inhabitants with a view of the inner courtyard of Malcolm’s house. In the middle of The Room was a brazier, and on it, always, sat a large black pot, full and bubbling.

The wax itself was nothing special, the pot was just a pot, but the function that they served was vital to her now. Her life at home in Starling City had been so much unrelenting pain. She’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t think about it without just… hurting.

She knelt beside the pot, remembering how completely nuts she’d thought Malcolm was when he’d first poured the boiling wax over his hand. It had given way quickly to fascination as she watched it drip off of his fingers. He didn’t flinch. It was like he didn’t even feel it.

“Pain is inevitable,” he’d said. And he was right. It was everything, in every thought. Every _lie_ they told her! Ollie and Mom and Roy and—

Ignoring the ladle that she’d always used, her anger had her plunging her hand into the wax, feeling the heat of it sear her flesh, shoot through pain receptors and overload her brain as it begged her to retreat. The jangling shock of it silenced her mind—just for a moment…

She withdrew her hand and looked at it, watching the wax roll down toward her elbow, the skin burning as it went.

And then she smiled.

“Pain is inevitable,” she whispered wonderingly. “Suffering is optional.”

“A lesson you were learning just fine _without_ damaging yourself,” Malcolm scolded, startling her. He stood in the doorway, looking at her with frank approval. “We should get some cream on those burns.” He knelt beside her and tenderly peeled away the wax, revealing livid, blistered skin.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, standing and walking over to one of the cabinets.

“Yeah,” she said, feeling dazed, not by the pain, but by the revelation. “Yeah, it does.” She watched him walk back carrying a jar of ointment. “But not as much as the rest of it.”

Malcolm grinned at that as he knelt down next to her again, rubbing the ointment into her skin and setting off sparks of pain that were…  sort of welcome, actually.

“Therein lies the lesson, Thea,” he murmured as he worked. Finally her burned hand glistened, and Malcolm screwed the lid back on the jar. “Better?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, meaning it for the first time in a long time.

She chuckled, the pain in her hand just emphasizing the unreality of the situation. Malcolm Merlyn was literally the only person who had lived up to a promise to her.

“What’s so amusing?” Malcolm asked, a grin flirting with his lips that looked just like Tommy’s. And just like hers.

“Nothing.” Thea let him pull her up off the ground and looked into his face with a smile.

“Thanks, Dad.”

*******  
the end


End file.
